


Happily Never After

by Roadstergal



Category: Into the Woods - Sondheim/Lapine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-20
Updated: 2008-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1637345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time - yet again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happily Never After

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta, Kahvi
> 
> Written for alianora

 

 

Once upon a time, in a far-off land, there lived a happy family - a baker, a former princess, a lad named Jack, and a pretty young girl. The happy family lived in the little house by the woods, until one day, Red went off to stay... somewhere else.

****** 

It was bound to happen, the Baker thought as he kneaded the bread in time to the cries of the baby behind him. They were at the wrong time of life to be together. Both of them at that odd time between childhood and adulthood, when you are too sensible to allow yourself to be told what to do, but not sensible enough to figure it out on your own - a time of rash decisions, high emotions, and love that does not last long.

He himself had married unusually late in life, and had always thought that to be the ideal...

He thumped the dough irritably, and continued to knead.

******

Jack frowned at the board wedged into place in the back of the small shed. It really needed to be better-hung than it was. But to do so would require him to measure, and cut, and fit, and adze, and carve wooden nails, and who had the patience for that?

On the other hand, if he didn't, it would only fuel Red's mockery about how slipshod he was, how useless around the house, how clumsy... she had a way of getting right to him. The baker said that she wouldn't say those things if she didn't care. But weren't there kinder things for someone who cares to say? And what right did she have to say them in the first place? She was the one who left her clothes crumpled on the ground, neglected the garden, forgot to feed the chickens, had gone to market and come back without the baby, prompting a worried rush into town by Ella. She had no right to say anything. Only - she wouldn't be around to say anything now, would she? He was free of her! Jack triumphantly knocked on the board with his fist - and it fell to the ground. He scowled at it.

******

Cinderella had two loaves left in her basket.

The street she was walking along wasn't a good place to get rid of them - well, not for money, at least. But she had greater worries on her mind than simply getting the most money for the bread. She did a rather good job of that, most times; something about her eyes, and her ragged skirt that displayed a bit too much ankle, and her ragged blouse that displayed a bit too much of something that wasn't ankle, helped her to get prime prices. She did not mind. The bread was good, and if she attracted attention to a decent product, it only helped everyone in the end.

She knocked on the wooden door of a ramshackle house. A big, dirty tomcat hissed angrily at her.

Red poked her face out. Her strawberry curls were dirty and lank, but still framed a face that did not lose its attractive roundness, no matter how slim the food had gotten. Her eyes widened. "How did you find me?"

"Can I come in?" The issue of how Red had been found was not one to go into at the moment, and Cinderella did not like the way the tom was looking at her legs. He seemed to be evaluating how much meat he could get out of them before being kicked away.

"Um... sure." Red stepped back, and Cinderella walked into the squalor, slamming the door behind. "Sit down."

That was a very dicey proposition, considering the state of the furniture. Cinderella lied. "I hitched a ride on the way here on the butcher's son's cart, and I don't think I'll sit for a week."

"He's attractive, isn't he?" Red sat down on a chair that groaned in protest.

"I haven't noticed." Cinderella looked around. "How do you like this place?"

"It's not bad." Red shrugged. "Could be worse. It's not with Jack, is all." Her voice soured.

Cinderella sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. "What happened this time?"

"It's not just this time!" Red jumped to her feet, and the chair groaned again in relief. "It's all the time. He's always picking on me, then looking at the other girls. You know. Every time Prince Charming gets married, he's always running to the procession to gawk. If he's too good for me, fine. I'm over him." Red crossed her arms, irate.

Cinderella cleared her throat. "I was married to Prince Charming, you know."

"Yes, but you're normal," Red said, dismissively. "You're not like those other girls. They're glamour and fairy-tales." She looked straight at Cinderella, her normal defiance tinged with something Cinderella couldn't identify. "Why do men always want the fairy-tales?"

Cinderella shifted uncomfortably. "It isn't just them. I wanted the fairy-tale, too. And I had it - and learned how unsatisfying it is. Jack had the fairy-tale, too; he made his choice to leave it behind. Talk to him about..."

"I did talk to him!" Red interrupted. "He was looking at one of the processions, and told me he was going to marry a princess some day."

Cinderella tried to stifle it, but it bubbled out before she could. Just a little giggle. Red frowned deeply, her eyes glistening. "What?"

"Do you know what he meant?" Cinderella asked, grinning. Red shook her head. Cinderella took her by the shoulders, looking into the girl's red-rimmed eyes. "Let me explain."

This was what was missing in the fairy-tales, Cinderella decided later, when she was walking home arm-in-arm with a much more cheerful Red. The everyday miracles. Sometimes, an awkward compliment from a bashful boy was sweeter than the strains of a golden harp. Sometimes, a baker waiting at home with a loaf of warm bread was better than a prince dripping with jewels.

Sometimes, reality was better than the fairy-tale. 

 


End file.
